


drift

by wincechesters



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:12:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1891716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincechesters/pseuds/wincechesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The proximity alarms start to go off and Charlie’s heartbeat, settled in the easy familiarity of the drift, picks up again. The interface in front of them shows them Okami where it rises out of the ocean, four legs pumping through the water as it swims in a rolling paddle of clawed hands. The snout is long, the head narrow, and thinking of the vintage video game that came out sometime during her childhood, she decides it’s a particularly apt codename.</p><p>“Ready to gank us a kaiju, Charlie?” Dean says, and she can feel him steeling himself beside her, tensing for battle under the sheen of his bravado.<br/>--<br/>In which Dean and Charlie are drift compatible, Charlie is a babe-magnet and both of them are huge dorks. Inspired by <a href="http://wincechesters.tumblr.com/post/87881281128/starfrak-dean-and-charlie-are-so-drift">this post</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> This whole thing started when I reblogged a post on tumblr and [Mar](http://bxdcubes.tumblr.com) started sending me all sorts of headcanons, and next thing I knew she was begging me to write a fic. Mar, I hope you like it, my sweet pea! <3 I had a great time writing it!
> 
> I have read the Pacific Rim novelization and I've probably seen the movie about twenty times by now, but I apologize for any errors on the PR side of things. Also, this makes no sense in the timeline of the Kaiju War, so don't even try to fit it in there. Just enjoy! :)
> 
> EDIT: Gorgeous fanart at the end of this work is by [Ashley](http://musingsofashley.tumblr.com); send her some love!!

_Sierra Falcon report to Bay 4. Kaiju code name Okami. Category 3._

Charlie groans, shaken into wakefulness by the deadpan electronic voice and the harsh, unnatural light thrown by the holographic display over her desk. Sleepily disentangling herself from long, slender limbs, the redhead tumbles out of bed, landing gracelessly in a heap on the floor before dragging herself to her feet. Still under the covers, Jo stirs reluctantly at the disturbance, her sleep-mussed blonde head coming up off the pillow.

“Go back to sleep, babe.” Charlie ducks down, planting a hurried kiss on the blonde’s brow. “I just have to go take care of a little kaiju problem. Be back before you know it.” Jo nods blearily and burrows back down into the blankets in Charlie’s bunk, bunching the pillow around her ears to block out the recording still rattling off Charlie’s deployment orders on a loop.

Charlie bustles quickly around the room, slipping on panties and bra, tank top and cargo pants. She whips a brush hurriedly through her hair and sits on the edge of the bed to tug on her boots. As she stands and makes to head for the door, a hand catches her slim wrist.

“You tell that asshole to watch your back,” Jo says, her voice husky with sleep. “And be careful.”

It’s new, this thing they have, and Jo’s still getting used to the whole Ranger-girlfriend deal, with the middle of the night wake-up calls, the waiting and the worry. She doesn’t ever say anything, but Charlie knows her well enough by now to see how hard it is on her, being the one left behind while her girlfriend and her best friend go off to fight monsters. If Jo had her way, if her mother wasn’t so protective, she’d be wasting kaiju right alongside them, and maybe one day she’ll get her chance. But for now she’s stuck in engineering, fixing up battered post-battle Jaegers while she waits for news that Sierra Falcon and both its crew made it back okay.

Charlie grins broadly, twisting her wrist to catch Jo’s hand in hers and give it a reassuring squeeze. “You know me,” the redhead chirps confidently. “Safety first.” Jo snorts and rolls her eyes in response, but the small, calloused hand resting in Charlie’s squeezes back hard.

It’s the early hours of the morning, and the corridors of the Shatterdome are empty of the usual bustle of Rangers and trainees and engineers as Charlie shuts the door behind her, spinning the wheel to lock up. Across the hall, the opposite door opens with the protesting groan of rusted hinges and Dean practically bounds out, grinning like the cocky action-hero wannabe he is, his teenaged brother following to lean out of their room’s door. The kid looks past Dean’s shoulder and waves. “Hi Charlie.”

“Hey Sam.” Charlie grins, throwing on the leather jacket with _Sierra Falcon_ and the stylized image of a bird of prey stitched on the back in bright-colored thread as she crosses the corridor. She lifts a hand for Dean to high-five which he does with relish as she reaches his side. “Ready to waste some kaiju, Winchester?”

“I’m always ready, Bradbury,” Dean throws back at her. He turns back to the door and reaches out to ruffle his brother’s floppy hair, disheveled from sleep and falling into his eyes. “Go back to sleep Sammy; it’s too early for homework. I’ll be back in a couple hours, tops.”

“Dean, quit it!” Sam protests, batting his brother’s hand away. “And it’s Sam, asshat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean calls back with an indulgent roll of his eyes, flicking a wave over his shoulder, and Charlie turns back to give Sam a reassuring smile as he shuts the door.

“How’s he doing?” Charlie asks, falling into step beside Dean as he saunters down the corridor, the patented Dean Winchester swagger making itself known. Adrenaline and anticipation have them marching quickly down the hall, their footfalls syncing up automatically as Charlie stretches her legs to match his long stride and Dean shortens his steps to make it easier on her.

Dean shrugs. “Still pissed that I get to go off and fight monsters and he has to stay behind. But whatever, he has to deal.”

“He still holding you to your promise that you’ll let him try for the Jaeger Academy when he graduates?”

“Yup. But hell if I’m actually gonna let him.” Dean shoves her with his shoulder, grinning broadly. “He can go work in R&D with Newt and Gottleib. Kid’s smart enough. Besides, I can’t let my little brother take kills away from us, now can I?”

Charlie knows perfectly well that kill count has nothing to do with it, and Dean knows that Charlie knows. She’s seen his childhood, seen him raising Sam all by himself after his parents died, seen his bone-deep fear of Sam dying in a kaiju attack. But she keeps her mouth shut, nods along, matches his cocky grin with one of her own. There are no secrets in the drift, but there’s a code between co-pilots. If he wants to act the hero, hide his fears behind bravado, she’ll let him. What happens in the drift, stays in the drift.

They strip off their jackets and their boots and climb into the circuitry suits, Charlie tucking her hair inside as technicians buzz to life around them like bees in a hive, snapping the plates of their drivesuits on around their bodies, setting the feedback cradles into the spaces along their spines. Charlie tugs her helmet into place over her head, turning to grin through the yellow-lit plexiglass at Dean, who’s grinning back at her through his own helmet while Ash snaps the shin plates on over his boots. They live for this: the thrill of a quest, fighting monsters, saving the world in the most badass way possible. Sure, every day they step into their Jaeger could be the day they don’t make it back. It’d be safer to stay home, to be an engineer, or a tech - still helping out on the war effort, still doing their part, but not risking their lives in a giant metal monster.

But where’s the fun in that?

Dean extends a closed fist as the techs finish bolting on the last pieces of their suits, a pre-game ritual since the first time they’d drifted together, and Charlie bumps it enthusiastically with her own, practically bouncing in her boots. It’s a short march to the Conn-Pod and then they’re stomping their feet into the moorings, connecting cables to gauntlets and pulling up the holographic screen.

The drop is the worst part for Dean because he hates flying and he hates falling more, and when they’re being transported by helicopter, Charlie’s there in his head to keep him calm. The drop is fast, and Charlie can hear him cursing under his breath through the speakers in her helmet and then they’re slowing and Falcon’s head is uniting with its body into nearly three hundred feet of pure frakking awesome, and Charlie wishes they had a theme song because this is definitely the time for a badass theme song. She hums the Star Wars theme instead and Dean lets out a tense breath and chuckles in her ear at the private joke.

The jackets might say “Sierra”, but in the Drift Space it's the Millennium Falcon all the way.

“This is Marshal Stacker Pentecost.” The Marshal’s voice filters through the comm, and out of the corner of her eye, Charlie sees Dean snap to attention automatically, a soldier’s response. “Prepare for neural handshake.”

Then Tendo’s counting down and Charlie tries to clear and calm her mind and make space for Dean in it.

“... three… two… one…”

Charlie takes a deep breath -

_Mom’s sitting at her bedside reading from The Hobbit, her voice washing over her like a wave_

_the house is burning, half of it’s missing and he’s clutching baby Sammy to his chest and running out, he can’t see Mom or Dad, can’t see anything through the smoke, the sounds of chaos filling his ears, his eyes stinging, he thinks he’s screaming but he can’t hear the sound_

_playing video games with Sam and Mom’s bringing them sandwiches, makes them pause the game so they can eat their lunch. It’s roast beef on rye and it’s delicious although he turns up his nose at the tomatoes_

_hacking into the PPDC, typing fast, one eye over her shoulder. Think they can keep her out of the program, well think again, pencil-pushers_

_standing at attention like a soldier while Dad yells, finger in his face, “You were supposed to be looking after Sam!” Dad shouts. “I gave you one job, Dean, one job-”_

_Jo in the morning, hair a cloud of wild blonde waves around her head, clutching blankets to her chest and a sleepy smile as she leans into a kiss. Feelings she doesn’t want to name bubbling up when she meets Jo’s pretty brown eyes and their hands tangle together over the sheets_

_still dressed in trainee blues, a t-shirt and cargo pants, Dean extends a hand and she takes it with a grin. “So I guess we’re gonna be piloting this boat together?” he asks_

_eating pie in a homey kitchen, Mom stroking a hand over his head as he smiles up at her through a mouthful of cherry filling -_

They’re shaken out of the rush of memories, lurching back into the present. At her side, Dean flexes the fingers of his right hand and her fingers flex along with his, and the holographic display in front of them tells her Falcon’s do the same.

“Neural handshake strong and holding,” Tendo’s voice comes through the comm and they sound the all clear in response.

The Marshal speaks up again as the choppers carry them away from the Shatterdome, releasing them into the ocean. “Rangers! Kaiju codename: Okami has broken the surface and is headed fast for the Miracle Mile. Your orders are to defend the Mile, and eliminate the threat as necessary. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean confirms and releases the comm button, shoots a grin at his co-pilot.

Charlie grins back at him. “Punch it, Chewie!”

“For the last time, Bradbury, I’m Han Solo,” Dean grumbles and that’s definitely his pouting voice.

Charlie laughs. “Please. You’re so Chewbacca, it’s not even funny.” And because Dean’s a huge nerd and he literally can’t resist the urge, he makes the Wookie noise like a champ and takes a step forward.

They move together, gears turning below them as they start forward on their right legs and Sierra Falcon strides forward in response, ocean water swirling around it. Dean’s singing AC/DC lyrics in his head, imagining as he always does, the raging guitar riffs playing over the groan of their Jaeger’s joints and the roar of its engines, and Charlie’s imagining that they’re knights off to slay a dragon, and they’re both grinning like idiots at the images in each others’ heads but who the frak cares - this badassedness will never get old.

The proximity alarms start to go off and Charlie’s heartbeat, settled in the easy familiarity of the drift, picks up again. The interface in front of them shows them Okami where it rises out of the ocean, four legs pumping through the water as it swims in a rolling paddle of clawed hands. The snout is long, the head narrow, and thinking of the vintage video game that came out sometime during her childhood, she decides it’s a particularly apt codename.

“Ready to gank us a kaiju, Charlie?” Dean says, and she can feel him steeling himself beside her, tensing for battle under the sheen of his bravado.

“Hell yes, I’m frakkin’ ready.” Charlie balls her hands into fists and feels Dean’s do the same, and they speed up into a run without any discussion needed, surging forward and upwards and blasting through the surface of the water.

Falcon’s horns sound, a low, booming call that draws the kaiju’s attention. Okami turns in the water, rearing upright and roaring in reply, slathering jaws parted to reveal teeth longer than Charlie is tall. It snarls and paces like the wolf it was named after and leaps forward without warning, raising a clawed hand to swipe at its attacker.

Metallic joints groan and creak as Falcon swings to meet Okami’s attack, catching it in its long jaw with the huge right fist, then again with the left. Inside the Conn-Pod, Dean and Charlie move together, putting everything they have into every swing of their fists. They get several good hits in, hammering into the kaiju’s hard skull, but Okami’s faster than the metal they’re moving. Dean’s still crowing triumphantly when its other hand comes up on Charlie’s side and swipes across Falcon’s head and chest.

Alarm bells go off inside the Conn-Pod as Okami’s claws slice through Falcon’s skin, sparks flying in a bright spray across Charlie’s vision. Dean’s swearing at her side and inside her head, punching buttons on the console and then - “Charlie, Charlie, you okay? Talk to me!” even as he swings with his right arm and Charlie feels her arm move with it.

Her vision’s still spotty but she shakes her head to clear it and digs into his swing, Dean’s relief washing over her when he feels her put everything she’s got into the hit. “I’m good, let’s waste this mother!” and she feels his grin when they swing into a left uppercut.

The hit feels good and Okami’s head rocks back, the jaws slamming shut with the force of the blow. They don’t give it a chance to recover, lunging forward into its space and hammering away at any part they can reach: head, shoulders, chest. The thing gets another swipe in, knocking them off balance, just enough that it can recover and then Okami’s teeth are sinking into the shoulder on Charlie’s side.

More sparks, the tearing screech of metal and then there’s water spraying into the Conn-Pod, just a little puncture, nothing they haven’t seen before, but Charlie bares her teeth in an expression that’s half-grin, half-snarl. Dean laughs darkly at her side, exhilarated and angry and then he’s yelling “Let’s knife this sonovabitch!” and punching the controls.

The hidden blade slides out from the sheath on Dean’s arm, and Okami manages to dodge the punch Charlie aims at its head but not the overhand lunge that Dean throws at it and the blade sinks deep into the flesh at the base of its neck. The kaiju screams, flecks of blue blood and slaver spraying onto Falcon’s head and chest, and it tries to back away but it’s held fast by the knife in its neck. It lashes out with teeth and claws, biting down and frantically slashing, tearing away bits of metal that are lost to the raging water around their knees.

“Plasma canon, Charlie, light ‘em up!” Dean roars and they cock Falcon’s left hand, powering up as they pull back the knife and plunge it in again. The canon’s slow as shit - things are never as fast as they are in the movies they love, even the frakking Death Star fired faster than this - but then _Yes!_ It’s ready and there’s her opening, Okami’s head is coming down, jaws spread for a killing blow. Dean sees what Charlie’s going for and lets her lead him, and they let their hand go right inside Okami’s jaws but before it can bite down they’re firing round after round right down Okami’s frakking throat. Charlie’s screaming a battle cry and Dean’s bellowing “Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!” and together they’re blowing the back of the kaiju’s head right off, bits of blue flying everywhere and disappearing into the sea.

* * *

Their return is triumphant, techies cheering them and clapping them on the back before they’re even out of the drivesuits. As soon as their hands are free, they high-five each other, identical adrenaline-induced grins splitting both their faces and then the Marshal himself is congratulating them on their third kill which makes Dean puff up like peacock and Charlie has to cover her hand with her mouth and hold back her laughter.

Suits shed and congratulated by their techs, Dean and Charlie make their way back to the mess hall, stomachs rumbling from missed breakfasts and a busy morning owning kaiju. The halls are busier now, trainees, Rangers, techs and civilians rushing by on the way to their early morning posts.

When the doors of the mess come in sight, Dean pauses curling an arm around Charlie’s shoulder and pulling her into his side. His hand is tight where it grips her shoulder as he leans in to place a gruff kiss on the top of her head. She hugs him back, flushing as she always does under the unusual affection he shows post-drift. It’s his proud-surrogate-big-brother routine, and it’s embarrassing as hell, but it also makes her chest fill up with warmth so she lets him do it.

“You did good today, kid,” he says gruffly into her hair, his strong arm around her gripping tight.

“You too, old man,” Charlie replies, grinning, giving him a squeeze around the waist before they separate and file into the doors of the mess.

The Kaidanovsky’s are sitting just inside the door, and they lift their heads to give curt nods of acknowledgement and congratulations which Dean and Charlie return as they make their way past. Dean makes a face that only Charlie can see at the Russians’ ever-present music, booming from the speaker in the center of their table. Charlie stifles a snort of laughter; you don’t have to drift with Dean to know how he feels about their Ukranian House music.

Their friends are sitting together at their regular table, Sam talking animatedly over a text with his friend Andy, Victor and Benny arguing with Meg about simulator scores. Jo’s sitting with her back to the door, back tense, but smiling at her friends’ antics, when Charlie slides an arm around her waist, resting her chin on the blonde’s shoulder.

Jo tenses, startled, but then relief flashes momentarily across her face before it’s gone, hidden behind the mask of confidence so similar to the one Dean wears. “Hey.” She smiles, reaching over her shoulder to curl an arm around Charlie’s neck, pressing her temple to Charlie’s. “You’re back.”

Charlie nods, breathing in the fresh, clean smell of Jo over the scents of neoprene and sweat and sea-water clinging to her own clothes. “And in one piece, too,” she chirps, pecking a kiss to Jo’s cheek. “Told ya I would be.”

“Cut it out,” Dean complains, slinging one leg over the bench to straddle it beside his brother who grins up at him, hero-worship plain on his young face. Dean snags the untouched roll off of Sam’s tray and takes a too-big bite, pointing a finger between Jo and Charlie. “I see enough of that shit in the drift,” he mumbles thickly around the mouthful.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I got more game than you, Winchester,” Charlie teases, sliding over to sit beside Jo and flicking her sweat-damp hair over her slender shoulder. “I am so Han Solo.”

“You’re dorks is what you are. Both of you,” Jo says affectionately, bumping her thigh against Charlie’s under the table.

Charlie winks and slides an arm around her waist. “You love it.” Jo rolls her eyes, but presses incrementally into the touch.

Dean raps the table between them with his knuckles, passing Charlie half of the roll without her having to ask. “So if you’re Han, does that make Jo Princess Leia?” And yeah, maybe Charlie’s had a couple fantasies about Jo willingly donning the gold bikini, and if the smug look on his face is any indication, Dean’s seen it in the drift. She narrows her eyes at him, but he jumps and winces before she can retaliate. Charlie suspects a swift kick in the shin, judging by the innocent, sunny smile that lights up Jo’s face when Dean glares across the table at her and she chuckles, nudging Jo affectionately with her shoulder.

Sam begs for a description of the fight and even Meg perks up to listen to Dean and Charlie give a blow-by-blow account of their big showdown with Okami, hands moving wildly and cutting each other off in the middle of each others’ sentences as they stumble through. Sam’s eyes are glowing throughout the whole story and Jo looks like she wants to throw up, torn between some mixture of jealousy and relief, and Benny and Victor hang off of every word, eager as always for their turn in a Jaeger. Dean and Charlie know their audience, and if they embellish a bit for dramatic effect, well, no one at the table needs to know.

“Wow,” Meg drawls after Dean finishes describing Charlie’s last move with the plasma canon that took the bastard down, “aren’t you just a couple of heroes.”

“Big damn heroes, sir!” Dean and Charlie reply in unison, and smirking, reach across the table to fist-bump.

Jo groans, turning to Sam. “Is it always like this after they drift? Finishing each other’s sentences and talking at the same time and making nerd references all day?”

Sam nods. “You’ll get used to it,” he says around a mouthful of greens.

Dean looks up at Charlie and grins. Charlie grins back.

 


End file.
